Summer Cabin Fever
I'm on the balcony lounging under a canvas shade, treating myself to a book. I am lounging with great enthusiasm; it could be say I am an expert lounger. While reading a chapter about the Greek island, Corfu, I dangle my feet past the cover of shade to flirt with the sun which is sailing through the cornflower-blue sky.
There is also green surrounding me: the mountains, the hummingbirds' breasts humming above, even my little forsaken tomato which is trying its best to make sure I have some summer crop. Occasionally the most delicious, balmy breeze saunters through the balcony, curling past my neck and toes and over to the neighbor's yard causing their cottonwoods to glitter and twirl. I can hear my brain let out a contended "ahh!". This is grade A, certifiable Paradise with a capital P.
On the deck below me I hear my children playing. Paradise lost! After a moment of listening I decide they are playing nicely and since they don't know where I am all is well. I have decreed it: Paradise prevails!
I'm hiding from my kids but I have a good reason. They are driving me crazy. My little darlings have pushed my sanity to the limit lately-something they excel it. They do it with great enthusiasm. You could say they are experts at it.
It's Thursday, not that it matters. Summer days all blend into one continuous day, truly an endless summer without the search for the perfect wave. My children's summer break has been full: constant bickering with each other, spells of starvation as soon as breakfast is put away, close escapes from the deathly clutches of boredom. We're halfway through the summer and I am worried I will not survive to the end of August. I think it best for everyone that l live alone on the balcony indefinitely. This is my home now.
They've found me. I've been interrupted five different times while writing the sentence "They've found me". My brain begins to sizzle.
I don't know why this summer has been so hard for me but it does feel harder than past ones. Maybe I'm remembering only the good from previous years but I truly can't remember there ever being this high amount of fighting and complaining as we've been experiencing in our home lately.
The worst part really isn't my children's behavior, though that is rough. It's how I handle it. When did I become such a sour and testy Squidward to my kids' Spongebob? It doesn't feel good to be at war with my kids. I don't enjoy the frequent corrections and interruptions. I want harmony and inclusion. Why my kids wouldn't enjoy quietly reading whilst making observations about the surrounding flora and fauna is beyond me.
The problem, unfortunately is my kids are too much, well, kids and I am too much the opposite. We are such different animals, parent and child. "No, I don't want to play dolls again and I am sure you don't want take a nap with me". We seemed doomed to be at odds with one another forever.
I feel a lot of guilt about not enjoying more often my kids company. I love them to a heart-shattering degree and would do anything for them but can you, please, PLEASE, stop teasing your sister?!
I know this is just the season of my life right now but it's interesting, isn't it, that it is a season? Why are parents and children so uniquely designed? Why give them such contradictory needs? What are the fruits to reap from this season?
I have no answer though I have a feeling there is a good reason for it all. I also know it's important to focus on the positive. Lately I've felt impressed to let go of frustrations right away. As soon as I'm confronted with toothpaste fights or couch hogging, I address the issue and perpetrator, hand out consequences if needed and then let it go. I find I too often I internalize bad behavior, mulling it over, even blaming myself, instead of forgiving and moving on. Who knows, maybe practicing the art of letting go in my own life will inspire my children to do the same. "I know your brother is breathing, just ignore him!"
I know I'm not a bad mom but its hard sometimes to feel like a good mom. Unrealistic expectations fly around my mind about what I should be doing better and what I am failing at. A good mom is always cheerful. A good mom loves being around her kids all the time even when they are fighting. A good mom somehow has time to teach her kids mathematics in the morning, do a craft project before lunch, play with them for hours without a pause and never once begrudge making them a meal they probably won't touch. I can honestly say without hesitation I am not that mom.
Truly, does that mom even exist? Better yet, I should be asking myself what does that mom have to do with me? I am not in competition with anyone, certainly not other moms. This is a race against myself and the desired outcome is nothing more than to be a little better today than yesterday. No scale exists with the perfect, Stepford Wifeish mom on one end and a horrible, child eating monster on the other. It's just me on this scale and all I need to do is my best.
I suppose that is the answer to my Summer '18 problem right there. If there is no expectation for me to be anything than my best self, certainly the same applies to my children. There is no perfectly obedient, low energy kid who loves broccoli on their scales either. It's just them, trying their best where they are at right now. I get the incredible job to help them, guide them to their best self but just as it is for me, their best self will look different every day. Their daily self will need love and support no matter what. That is definitely what I need. Perhaps that is the fruit of this weary, crucial season: the numberless chances we give and receive from our family members each day as we strive again to become a little better. We can't make it without each other.
I wouldn't pick any other kids then these perfectly imperfect and lovable kids of mine to go on this journey with. They are the best. They are their best.
Happy reading.